


Good Enough For Me

by seimaisin



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Group Sex, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-11
Updated: 2008-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:49:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seimaisin/pseuds/seimaisin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon gets an un-birthday gift, one designed to give him everything he ever wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Enough For Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [jezzabe](http://jezzabe.livejournal.com) in a holiday fic exchange.

No one else was paying attention to Brendon when the girl gave him the tin of cookies. “For me?” he asked. “But it’s not my birthday!”

“Consider it an un-birthday gift,” she said, smiling widely. “On your un-birthday, you should get everything you never get on your real birthday.”

Brendon liked that sentiment and filed it away for future use. He shook his head regretfully at the girl. “I can’t take these, but thank you!”

She looked around furtively. No one else was paying any attention to them, except for the line of girls who stared longingly at the meet & greet table. She opened the tin and pulled out a cookie. “Here, just try one, I promise they’re worth your while.”

“I can’t, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

She pushed the cookie across the table at him, along with the tin. She bent down as she did it, allowing Brendon a look at a truly spectacular pair of breasts. He thanked the universe for inventing those strappy tank tops some days. He barely noticed her smile. “Just keep them. My mom makes the best cookies in the world!”

He finally looked up at her face as he put the tin under the table, just to appease her. She picked up the stray cookie and waved it at him teasingly. Just then, Zack noticed her and shook his head firmly. Brendon shrugged at her, and she put the cookie down on the table. “Just think about it,” she said, moving away from him before Zack could make it across the room to usher her away.

The girl passed through the line without talking to anyone else. Brendon found that a little odd, but he forgot about it as soon as the next girl brandished a gigantic poster of his face in front of him. After a few minutes, he forgot about cookie girl entirely, as a seemingly endless line of fans paraded in front of him. He signed CD after poster after t-shirt; he even signed a girl’s high school diploma, which won the weird award for that week. “What’s your mom going to say about that?” he asked.

She shrugged. “My mom’s not the one who spent four years in hell to earn it.” Brendon couldn’t really argue with that one.

Brendon’s stomach started to growl; when he looked down the line, there were still at least thirty people left to sign for. Absently, he reached over, broke a piece off of the cookie, and popped it into his mouth.

He didn’t remember until after he’d swallowed. He started to panic. What if he’d just poisoned himself? Really, though, he thought, only a very tiny percentage of fans were psychotic. And no girl with breasts like that girl would be a crazy bitch. Brendon had a mental judgment system that hadn’t failed him yet. Well, except for that time with that one girl, and then that time with the -- but that had totally not been his fault. Otherwise, his judgment was impeccable.

He pushed the rest of the cookie away and smiled at the new girl in front of him. A few minutes later, a shiver ran down his spine. “Is it cold in here?” he asked Spencer, nudging him in the arm.

Spencer scooted over and bumped his shoulder against Brendon’s. “I told you to wear jeans, but no, you didn’t believe that October is actually not summer in this part of the country.” He poked Brendon’s bare leg at the place where his shorts ended.

Brendon shivered again, but somehow, the patch of skin that Spencer had touched felt far too warm for the rest of his skin. Whatever expression showed on his face must have been amusing, because Spencer grinned and leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Hang in there, if you survive the hordes, I’ll give you a shoulder rub.”

Brendon blinked in surprise, but Spencer turned back to the fan in front of him without saying any more. That was … odd, Brendon thought. Usually, it took hours of cajoling and some kind of blackmail to get Spencer to rub his shoulders. It was worth the work, though, because Spencer gave the best back rubs in history. Did he just look that pathetic, Brendon wondered, that Spencer would offer without thinking? Brendon rubbed his forehead, as his face suddenly felt warm. Maybe he was getting sick.

He absentmindedly broke off another piece of cookie as he turned back to the fans. By the time the meet & greet ended, the cookie had disappeared, and Brendon no longer remembered why he’d ever panicked. He shoved the tin into his bag as they headed off to warm up for the show.

***

Zack entered the dressing room after the show, only to find a half-naked Brendon lying face-down on the floor, with Spencer straddling his hips. There were sounds coming from the vicinity of Brendon's head, sounds Zack had never wanted to hear. “Jesus, you guys, my eyes,” he said, smacking the side of Spencer’s head lightly as he passed.

“I’m giving him a back rub, you pervert.” Spencer’s hands dug farther into Brendon’s skin, and Brendon let out a long, low moan.

“Doesn’t sound like it,” Zack commented.

Spencer ignored him. Brendon squirmed underneath him, and Spencer ... well, Spencer growled. "Stop moving," he ordered. Zack turned away quickly and grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. The only time Zack ever heard that particular tone of voice from Spencer was when someone made the mistake of asking him a question before his morning coffee. Oh, and when his ex-girlfriend was in his bunk. That thought didn't comfort Zack.

On the couch, Ryan was picking out a familiar-sounding song on his guitar. Zack couldn’t place it until Jon started singing along softly. “I can show you the world, shining, shimmering, splendid …”

Zack looked back down at the floor. Brendon’s eyes were closed, a rapturous look on his face. “Did Brendon win a bet or something? Is he the Guitar Hero champion of the universe? Did one of you burn his favorite guitar?” he asked.

The music stopped, and three pairs of eyes stared blankly at Zack. “You’re weird, dude,” Ryan said finally, before shrugging and starting the song over again.

Zack left the room when Ryan began to harmonize with Jon on the chorus of “A Whole New World.” He didn’t want to know. Really.

***

Later that night, all four of them piled into a hotel room and bought a pay-per-view porn movie. Ryan lit a joint, and Brendon pulled the cookie tin out of his backpack. “My sister mailed them,” he said. Actually, he couldn't remember where they'd come from, but his sister was always sending him awesome things. He must have just forgotten about these. “Best cookies in the world!”

They ate the whole tin before they finished the joint.

***

When Jon and Ryan came back to the hotel room, arms full of every bag of potato chips the vending machine had to offer, they didn’t expect to see Spencer straddling Brendon, hands underneath his shirt and mouth fastened to his neck. Jon dropped the chips on the floor. Ryan was a little more careful, placing his armful of bags on the dresser, but he didn’t take his eyes off the bed the entire time. Brendon’s head was thrown back, his eyes closed and his mouth open in a perfect “o”. Ryan’s brain felt a little fuzzy; the only thought that swam to the surface was that Brendon’s mouth looked ripe for kissing, someone should really get on that.

Luckily, Jon was two steps ahead of him. Ryan blinked, and the next moment Jon was kneeling on the bed, mouth pressed to Brendon’s.

Ryan shifted his gaze to Spencer. He was tugging Brendon’s shirt up to his armpits, but his attempt to take the shirt off was thwarted by Jon, whose tongue had thrust deep into Brendon’s mouth. Brendon groaned, and the noise shot straight to Ryan’s cock.

Ryan blinked. There was something, he thought fuzzily, something that should be happening. Or shouldn’t. The cookie tin they’d been eating out of was overturned on the floor next to Ryan’s feet. He thought that seemed important. But, somehow, it wasn’t as important as the stripe of pale skin that showed in the gap between Spencer’s jeans and t-shirt as he bent over Brendon, trying to coax the shirt over Brendon’s head. Ryan stepped to the bed and placed his hands on Spencer’s back, the cookie tin forgotten.

***

Jon didn’t think he’d ever fantasized about Brendon giving him a blow job. At the moment, he couldn’t really figure out why, because having Brendon’s mouth on his dick was about the best thing he’d ever felt.

Brendon did this thing where his tongue swirled around the head just before he took Jon almost completely into his mouth – vaguely, Jon wondered how many times Brendon had done this before, but the question died somewhere in the back of his brain when Brendon sucked, hard. Jon’s hips came off the bed, and Brendon made a choking noise. Jon stilled himself and stroked Brendon’s hair in a kind of apology – _no, sorry, do it again_ , he wanted to say, but his voice had left the building, it seemed. He watched Brendon lick his lips, hovering a fraction of an inch above the most sensitve part of Jon's body. Brendon's breath was hot, too hot, and Jon had hard time keeping his hips firmly planted on the bed. He didn't dare move. If he moved, maybe Brendon would go away. That would be bad, Brendon needed to stay. Brendon and his mouth needed to come back.

Brendon’s hands pushed Jon into the mattress and he licked a wet, ticklish stripe between the curls at the base of Jon’s cock and his belly button. Jon squirmed. Brendon made an incoherent noise against his skin; maybe a laugh, maybe a groan, or maybe it was a sound no human had ever made before. Jon really didn’t comprehend much of anything at the moment. Nothing registered except Brendon’s mouth, which closed back over his cock after what seemed like an entire lifetime.

On the bed next to him, Ryan made this amazing noise, one that made Jon desperately curious. He turned his head slightly. Ryan was kneeling on the bed, naked, his cock bobbing hard and heavy close to his torso. Spencer knelt behind Ryan, his mouth fastened to the white skin of Ryan's neck. Jon marveled at the sight of Spencer's mouth, pink and swollen, when he brought his head back up to nuzzle against Ryan's hair. Then, Brendon sucked again and Jon forgot about everything else.

***

Spencer knew Ryan’s body already. Years of bed sharing and tickle wars and no personal boundaries had left him with an intimate knowledge of the places that made Ryan gasp and squirm. At the moment, he wasn’t above exploiting that.

He held Ryan against him, back to Spencer’s chest, with one arm, while he ran the other hand over every inch of skin he could reach. Ryan didn’t struggle, didn’t move until Spencer’s hand made it to the patch of skin right above his hipbone, the place so ticklish that they’d declared it off-limits in fights a long time ago. This wasn’t a fight, though, so Spencer felt no guilt about running his calloused fingers lightly over the skin. Ryan’s hips jerked, and Spencer held him tighter, his free hand digging into the sensitive spot. He rubbed his thumb in firm circles. Spencer’s chin rested on Ryan’s shoulder; he heard Ryan’s breath rasping in his ear, but his eyes were fixed on Ryan’s rapidly-hardening cock, which twitched with every pass of Spencer’s thumb. Spencer watched with interest and wondered briefly if that had happened when they’d wrestled as teenagers. He'd always fought dirty back then, because Ryan could be an obnoxious little fuck and usually deserved to be taken down a few notches. Spencer had always struck at every weakness he knew about, every spot that made Ryan curse and flail. Ryan was cursing now, too, a gasping noise under his breath. Had his cursing always been a plea for more? Spencer wondered.

Beside them, Spencer heard unmistakable slurping noises. He flicked his gaze over – and noticed that Ryan did the same – to see Jon’s cock disappear into Brendon’s mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ryan bite his lip. Spencer couldn’t resist, he brought his free hand up to his mouth and licked it thoroughly before reaching back down to grasp Ryan’s cock. Ryan's legs buckled; he would have tumbled into the mattress if Spencer hadn't been holding him upright. Instead, he threw his head back onto Spencer's shoulder and grabbed back at Spencer's thighs for support. He said something. Spencer was beyond understanding words, but then again, he and Ryan had never needed that many words.

Ryan’s moans eventually matched Jon’s note for note. Spencer thought they sounded like music.

***

Brendon might have fantasized about getting fucked by his band mates once or twice (… a week), but he never thought he’d actually ever be on his hands and knees, two of Spencer’s lotion-covered fingers slowly sliding in and out of his ass. He tried to turn around and tell him _more, more, another, give me everything_ , but Spencer’s other hand held his shoulders firmly to the bed. He was reduced to incoherent whining into the pillow.

Brendon turned his head; next to him, Ryan lay on top of Jon, kissing him lazily. Ryan and Jon had both gotten off already. Brendon thought it was kind of unfair, but watching their lips slide wetly against each other was too hot for Brendon to really complain. Ryan opened his eyes and noticed Brendon’s stare, and he reached out to wipe the beads of sweat off of Brendon’s upturned cheek. Brendon felt like his entire body was made up of nerve endings; every touch, whether it was Spencer’s heavy hand or Ryan’s light caress, made him feel like he was about to explode.

Spencer pulled his fingers away, causing Brendon to whine and thrust his ass farther into the air. Spencer pressed down on his shoulders one last time before removing that hand, as well. Brendon stilled. _Come back, come back_ , come back, he chanted silently. Ryan’s hand remained on his face, brushing sweat-drenched locks of hair off of his forehead and cheeks. Brendon watched as Jon reached up to plant open-mouth kisses along Ryan’s jaw, fascinated by the contrast between Ryan’s pale skin and Jon’s dark beard.

Then, Spencer pushed the head of his cock into Brendon, and Brendon’s vision swam. He made a strangled noise – hopefully, it sounded something like “yes” or “please” or “more” to Spencer.

Spencer pushed in slowly, so slowly that Brendon was shaking from the effort of holding himself still by the time Spencer was buried completely inside of him. Brendon turned his head so that he was breathing and muttering into the pillow, leaving Ryan to stroke his hair. All Brendon could hear was breathing – Jon drawing in a breath before each kiss he planted on Ryan, Ryan’s breath measured, except when Jon’s tongue darted out and tasted skin. But above all, Brendon heard Spencer’s breath, heavy and ragged above him, punctuated by short guttural moans at every inch he pushed deeper.

Ryan’s hand left Brendon’s hair suddenly, and he heard the bed groaning from movement. The sound barely had time to register, though, before Spencer pulled almost all the way out of Brendon’s body and then slammed back in, hard enough that Brendon felt himself slide farther up the bed. He brought his arms up far enough to brace himself against the headboard and gripped the pillow.

Spencer had rhythm. Brendon knew this, he relied on Spencer’s innate sense of rhythm night in and night out. He had never been so grateful for Spencer’s rhythm, however, until this moment, when the slap of skin against skin sounded like the same beat that played in Brendon’s chest. Skin and friction and labored breathing, it all sounded like a song. Brendon wanted the song imprinted on his mind, his skin, his soul forever and ever.

He felt the rasp of a beard against the back of his neck – Jon, transferring his wet kisses to the skin between Brendon’s shoulder blades. And then, finally, the heavenly sensation of Ryan’s long fingers closing around Brendon’s dick, strong and slick and moving in the same rhythm as Spencer.

For a moment, Brendon wanted to freeze time. Then, Spencer let out the loudest moan he’d ever heard, Ryan’s hand squeezed tighter, and Brendon had no choice but to let go.

***

Brendon woke up on his stomach, his head hanging off the side of the bed. He reached up to rub his aching neck. As he turned his head to the side experimentally, he caught sight of a red metal tin on the floor next to him. He reached down and picked it up. Inside, there was a smattering of cookie crumbs, along with a strange greenish powder and a small note stuck to one of the corners. Brendon picked the note out and unfolded it.

 _Those who eat will be gifted with their deepest desire._

He remembered. The girl, the cookies, the strange feeling ... "Everything you never get," he whispered, remembering her voice. He swiped his finger into the green powder and brought it up and looked at it in the sliver of light that escaped from behind the curtain. The powder sparkled, and Brendon's finger felt warm and tingly.

Brendon scrambled off the bed, and the tin clattered to the floor. He stood and looked back at the bed. Spencer’s arm was draped over Jon’s waist, and Ryan was sleeping horizontally, his head pillowed on Spencer’s leg. Spencer twitched at the noise, but didn't open his eyes. Brendon breathed a sigh of relief and made a beeline for the bathroom. He shut himself, turned on the faucet, and scrubbed his hands clean until they felt raw. Then, he dropped to the floor and covered his face with his hands.

He didn’t know how long he sat there. He didn’t hear any movement from the other room; he had a vague plan to get dressed quietly and escape to the hotel lobby for a while. However, when he opened the door, he saw Spencer leaning on the wall across from him. Spencer was still naked, and Brendon had the urge to press himself up against Spencer’s warm skin and kiss the hollow between his neck and his chest. Instead, he shivered and crossed his arms.

Spencer didn’t move. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Brendon responded.

“Are you freaking out?”

“Aren’t you?”

Spencer shrugged. “Maybe when I wake up a little more.”

Brendon took a deep breath. “How about right now?” He opened his fist – the little note was still crumbled within, so he shoved it at Spencer. “Here. It was the cookies, it was all the cookies, they weren’t from my sister, they were from a stranger, apparently my judgment is shit …” Brendon let out a shaky breath as Spencer unfolded the note. “And so, it’s my fault,” he said, leaning against the door.

“Okay, hold on.” Spencer stared at the note, then at Brendon. “This was in the cookies. You think they were drugged? Like, with an aphrodisiac or something?”

"More like a spell, I guess," Brendon admitted.

"Magic?" Spencer didn't roll his eyes, but Brendon could tell it was a close thing.

“What other explanation is there?”

“Um, that we were all high and horny?”

“We’ve all gotten high and horny before. Has any other night ever ended in an band orgy?”

“No,” Spencer admitted. “But now that it has, I can’t say I’m complaining.”

Brendon’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah. What, are you? Complaining, that is?” Spencer looked at him through half-lidded eyes. Brendon knew that look; he used to think it meant Spencer thought he was stupid, but it really meant that Spencer was nervous and trying hard not to show it.

“No!” Brendon said hastily. “No. Really, really not complaining. But … if we were drugged, then it’s like it wasn’t real. It wasn’t us. It was …” Brendon stopped and lowered his voice, glancing guiltily over at Jon and Ryan’s sleeping forms. “Okay, if that note is true, then my deepest desire was to have sex with you guys. So, some sort of weird spell made it happen. And that, I don’t know, seems wrong somehow.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Even if that’s true, you’re forgetting something, dumbass.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re not the only one who ate the cookies.”

Brendon opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He stared at Spencer. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Spencer reached across and grabbed Brendon's wrist. “So come back to bed, I refuse to freak out on less than five hours of sleep.” A lie, Brendon knew - Spencer had an amazing talent to freak out at any time he damned well pleased - but he allowed himself to be dragged out of the bathroom doorway.

Brendon and Spencer climbed into the unused bed. “Clean sheets,” Spencer sighed happily. He curled up against Brendon’s back. Brendon set the note on the bedside table and, after a moment, relaxed back into Spencer’s body. The satisfied noise Spencer made was all Brendon heard before Spencer’s breathing evened out into a sleeping rasp. He looked across at the other bed, where Jon and Ryan had shifted so that Ryan lay in a fetal position, his head burrowed against Jon’s side. Jon’s hand rested on Ryan’s shoulder. After a few minutes, Ryan stirred and shifted. Jon’s hand tightened on Ryan’s skin, and Ryan settled back down, curled closer to Jon than before. They let out twin contented sighs.

Spencer’s arm curled around Brendon’s waist. As he closed his eyes, Brendon caught sight of the red cookie tin lying on the ground. “Happy un-birthday to me,” he murmured as he fell back into sleep.

***

Zack had to knock on the hotel room door four times before someone answered. That someone was Jon, naked and blinking blearily. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, put some pants on,” Zack said, scowling.

Jon looked down. When he looked back up, he was smiling. “Do I have to go somewhere?”

“No, I was just checking on you. You and Spencer weren’t in your room, I wanted to make sure you were here.”

Jon looked back into the room. Zack looked over his head to see two beds, clothes strewn everywhere, and a lot of pale, naked flesh. “Hmm,” he heard Jon say, scratching at his beard.

“I don’t want to know,” Zack said, when he saw Jon look at him and open his mouth. “I really, really don’t want to know. As long as all of you are on the bus by noon, I don’t care.”

“Noon,” Jon said slowly. “What time is it?”

“Ten o’clock,” Zack answered. He stepped backwards so that the only naked person he could see was Jon. That was still one naked guy too many, but with this crowd, he took what he could get.

“Two hours. I think we can do that.” Jon glanced back into the room. Zack didn’t care to interpret the pleased look on his face.

“Noon, Walker, or I’m sending the tabloids up after you,” Zack called as the door closed in his face.

When Zack turned around, a housekeeper stood there, staring. He grabbed a spare ‘do not disturb’ sign off of her cart and hung it on the door. “Skip this one. Trust me,” he told the woman. She opened her mouth to speak, but just then Brendon’s voice came from inside the room – a loud, obscene moan.

Zack and the housekeeper fled in opposite directions.


End file.
